


before I open up my arms and fall.

by Hodgy



Category: Hit the Floor (TV)
Genre: Depression, Grief/Mourning, I'm Sorry, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 03:20:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5990173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hodgy/pseuds/Hodgy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zero doesn't know he's falling until he hits the ground.</p>
            </blockquote>





	before I open up my arms and fall.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this while listening to Fjögur píanó by Sigur Rós and This Years Love by David Gray on repeat. The Title is from the David Gray song. They inspired many sad feelings I highly recommend you listen to those while you read. Enjoy.

Zero barely registers the sound of his phone clattering against the tile of the locker room floor as he heaves up his breakfast, struggling for air with every passing second. He’d left him for half an hour at most-- he just needed to sort out a roster with the team so that he could have some time off to spend with Jude. To help him get better. _He was gone for half an hour._

=

Zero’s knuckles crack as they collide with Oscar’s face. 

“You killed him!” _crack._

“How could you kill your own son! After everything you did to him, you fucking pig--” _crack._

“I’ll fucking murder you.” _crack._

=

When Oscar doesn’t press charges, Zero feels sick.

“Go on then. You’re lucky, kid. Most men would go down for what you did.” The officer unlocks the handcuffs clasped around his wrists. 

“He killed the love of my life. He’s the one who should be going to prison.” Zero’s response is cold. He hasn’t cried yet. He doesn’t know why. Everything feels wrong, not quite real.

“I read the case file. He’s your partner’s next of kin, and he was well within his rights to make the decision to turn off life support.” 

Zero wants to tell the policeman to get fucked. But he doesn’t. Instead, he goes home.

=

As soon as Zero steps through the door, another wave of nausea hits him. Everything’s where it was when he and Jude left the morning of the crash. Zero hasn’t been back in five days. He’d stayed with Jude in the hospital every minute since it happened. Two half eaten bowls of cereal sit next to each other on the kitchen bench, probably rotting by now. One of Zero’s basketball vests hangs over the back of the couch. A striped blue and white tie is looped around the door handle that leads to the bathroom. Zero remembers, Jude couldn’t decide which one to wear. Which one would make a greater impression on the executives from the team he was meeting with. He was mid negotiation, trading a player, Zero thinks. He hates himself for not knowing which team it was.

=

Zero doesn’t cry until he shuffles into Jude’s bedroom, _their bedroom._ They didn’t make the bed that morning. The duvet is pushed down towards the end of the bed and there’s dried come on the sheets. One of Jude’s dress shirts lays crumpled on the floor. It’s one of Zero’s favourites, white with blue pinstripes. 

He curls up in a ball on Jude’s side of the bed, cradles the shirt to his chest, breathes in Jude’s smell, and screams until his lungs give out and his eyes burn from the tears.

=

A few weeks after the funeral, Zero returns to his own house. Just to pick up a change of clothes. Lionel had stopped by the day before. She’d planted a kiss to his cheek and placed an unmarked CD case down on Jude’s coffee table, telling him to watch it when he was ready, and whispered into his ear that Jude wouldn’t want him to look so unkempt and depressed before sauntering out. There was nothing Zero could do about the second part, but Lionel was right, and Zero can’t bring himself to wear any more of Jude’s things, too afraid that they might lose his smell like the pinstriped shirt that Zero has been wearing since the day after he returned home.

Zero wants this to be quick. In and out. He looks through one of his closets and finds a black duffel bag, then digs through his drawers, pulling out shirts and jumpers and some clean underwear. Unexpectedly, his fingers come in contact with something solid. He grabs the object without thinking.

Zero doesn’t know he’s falling until he hits the ground.

Clasped in his hand is a small burgundy box. Zero knows what’s inside. He bought it on a whim on a trip for a magazine photo shoot in New Zealand. He’d seen it in the window of a boutique jewelry store on one of his days off. It wasn’t anything sparkly, just a simple golden ring with a thin band of Paua shell running through the centre, not that Zero wasn’t planning on buying Jude a thousand diamonds if that was what he wanted, but that didn’t change that Zero had wanted more than anything, to marry Jude. Zero had been alone his whole life until he came along. And god, he’d never loved anyone as much as he loved Jude. He never would again.

Physically, Zero is on the verge of being sick. A horrid feeling, like something trying to claw its way out of his esophagus settles at the back of his throat, and his bones ache more than they ever have, even as a professional athlete. He thinks of the way Jude would sometimes run the tips of his fingers over the tensed muscles in his shoulders after a long day of practice, and he can’t help but heave. Zero squeezes his eyes shut and feels his wet eyelashes stick together. 

Without thinking, he curses and throws the box against the wall on the opposite side of the room. It smacks into the surface, and lands with a dull thud against the hardwood floor.

Zero can feel himself hyperventilating, his chest is burning, the collar of his shirt is wet from the tears dripping off of his chin. His knuckles are white, nails digging blood red crescents into his palms. Almost as quickly as he threw the box, he stumbles onto his feet, dropping down to his knees once again when he spots the ring lying alone beside his bed. Zero chokes out a sob as he reaches out to pick up the ring. It's cold to the touch, and he almost drops it with the way his hands are shaking. The box is in two pieces a few feet away. Zero bundles it into his palms, too. His eyes are wild, nostrils flaring. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry- I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to- I’m sorry.” 

He cries until he can’t anymore.

=

Zero stares at the CD Lionel left for what seems like hours, until he finally brings himself to see what it is. He pushes it into the disk-drawer, and his laptop whirrs. 

A command prompt pops up onto the screen.

‘jude.mp4 has been inserted. Would you like to play this file?’

Zero takes a deep breath, and clicks the ‘Yes’ button on the bottom left. The video plays. 

Lionel is whispering into the camera, clearly drunk. It’s dark, night time, and she’s outside. There’s loud dance music playing in the background. “Look who I’ve just found” She’s wearing a proud grin, and her eyes sparkle. The camera spins around only to focus on Jude and Zero kissing in what looks like an outside booth.

Zero swallows his tears, and keeps watching.

The kiss is getting passionate, hands start to wander. Suddenly, Lionel shouts over the music “You two! Tell the camera about what happened courtside today.” Jude breaks apart from Zero. They’re both obviously drunk as well, Zero’s head drops down to Jude’s shoulder and he starts to kiss at his collarbone. “This guy” Jude points at Zero, his grin is blinding, “This beautiful man kissed me in front of twenty-thousand people.” Lionel playfully cheers behind the camera. “Damn right I did.” video Zero mumbles through his assault on Jude’s neck.

Zero bites down on his lip. He doesn’t remember this at all.

“Hey.” Jude’s tone is suddenly serious, his voice evening out. “Gideon, look at me.” At that, video Zero looks up. His lips are wet. “‘I’m in love with you. I love you, Gideon.”

Zero almost doubles over. He can’t do this. He can’t.

The Zero on screen smiles so wide at that. It’s strange how something that once made him so happy is ripping his heart out as he watches it over for the first time.

=

If he tries hard enough he can feel Jude’s knuckles brushing against his shirt like they did on the morning of Lionel and Oscars wedding when he had hastily pulled Zero’s tie into a knot. If he focuses, he can hear the sound of Jude’s voice, the lilt in his speech, soft and warm like the time he’d asked Zero if he wanted to move in. If he just tries, he can remember a time that he was happy, and not filled with sadness and self-hatred. But he can’t bring himself to.

Maybe he could be okay. Maybe it would take a few months. Maybe a few years. Maybe even a few decades. 

Zero doesn’t know. He doesn’t know if he even wants to be okay, can’t imagine a life without Jude’s smile.

But Zero does know something. He thinks it over and over again. It’s been playing in his head like a mantra every waking moment since that piece of shit swerved into the side of Jude’s car.

_I love you, Jude. I miss you. I don’t know what I’m going to to do without you here._

And it’s deafening.


End file.
